


Sacrifice

by believesinponds



Series: Domestic Bliss [8]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Pain, Panic Attack, friendly snuggles, not a serious one but described from the attackee's point of view, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 01:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5951259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/believesinponds/pseuds/believesinponds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len is upset about recent events. Sara tries to help.</p><p>[Reaction to <i>Legends of Tomorrow</i> 1x04. Spoilers ahoy.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> So episode 1x04 aired in Canada tonight after the Superbowl (or something). This fic is a reaction to that episode and is definitely spoilery soooo read at your own risk! (Or just bookmark this baby until Thursday.)
> 
> Warning for description of a panic attack from Len's POV. Not a very serious one, but it's definitely there.

“Fuck Rip.”

Len sighed and said, “Come in, Sara,” in his most sarcastic drawl.

“Seriously,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Fuck him.”

The room fell back into darkness without the light from the hallway. It didn’t stop Sara from finding her way to the bed and sliding in next to him. He could just see the outline of her knees bending to mirror his. She bumped her shoulder into his.

Len leaned his head against the wall. His chest felt tight.

“We’re gonna get them back,” Sara said.

“Yeah.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

Len licked his lips. “He better be. If he’s not I’ll kill him.”

Her quiet laugh was only a little comforting.

_This where the party’s at?_

Damn Mick and his recklessness. Damn him for being there at all, for coming after Len. For having his back.

_Get the hell out of here!_

Damn him for jumping in head first, guns blazing, without a thought for his own safety.

_What are you waiting for?_

Len’s fists were clenched too tight. His eyes were burning. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe_ without Mick, _damn him!_

“Leonard.” A hand was covering his. Not Mick’s or Lisa’s, but not unfriendly either.

Sara.

“Leonard. You have to fight through it.” Her hand tightened over his. “Breathe. Don’t let the darkness win.”

How was he supposed to breathe when Mick, his partner, his fucking _husband_ , was locked up in an impenetrable Soviet Gulag?

A hand pressed on his chest, relieving some of the pressure.

“Breathe, Leonard.”

He gasped in a shaky breath.

“Now out.”

The air came out in something close to a sob.

Sara’s other arm settled around his shoulders. “Breathe in, Leonard.”

A longer breath this time, still shaky.

“And out.”

He pushed the air from his lungs in a long stream.

“Good. Keep it up, Leonard.” Her voice was calm and quiet. Soothing.

Her hand pressed harder against his chest and Len breathed in deeply.

“Thank you,” Len said, only a hint of his normal drawl evident in his voice.

“Don't mention it.”

They sat in silence for several moments, Len getting his breathing under control and Sara supporting him through it.

“It was me this time,” he whispered.

Sara just squeezed his shoulder.

“She had a gun to _my_ head and somehow _Mick_ was still the one who got hurt.”

Sara hummed.

“And then Rip--fucking _Rip_ told me to go for the damn thing that Stein dropped and Mick--” his voice broke and he huffed out a frustrated breath. “Mick was surrounded and no help was coming. I had no choice. No choice.”

“You did what had to be done.”

Len’s fist tightened. “I shouldn't have had to make that call.”

Sara didn't say anything, just pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder. Len allowed it.

“Fuck Rip,” he muttered.

She smoothed her hand over his head and hummed.

“Fuck him.”


End file.
